


the drop, the turn, the loop

by daisylincs



Series: Agents of Birthdays [19]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of Birthdays, Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), Angst, Arguments, F/F, F/M, Gift Fic, Happy Birthday Q!!, Healing, Make-up, Repairing Relationships, TW: Mention of Racist Slurs, Trying again, birthday fic, break-up, even when they're fighting they're in love, relationship angst, set-ups, skimmons being cuties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylincs/pseuds/daisylincs
Summary: After a vicious fight, Bobbi and Hunter run into each other at the bar - only to find their respective companions/comforters for the night adorably falling for each other. Deciding to set aside their own grievances to help their friends find love, they realize that maybe they aren't completely broken, and itisworth trying again.
Relationships: Bobbi Morse & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse
Series: Agents of Birthdays [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886911
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	the drop, the turn, the loop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the9muses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the9muses/gifts).



> Dear Q,
> 
> Well, for starters, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, love!!! Just so you know, I have been grinning like an idiot all evening since our little Hamilton reference-session this afternoon, so it's really from the bottom of my heart that I'm wishing you an INCREDIBLY happy day today. Hamilton-levels of happy!! 
> 
> Now, on birthdays, it's a little bit of a tradition of mine to go back in memory lane - so, love, let's do you and me. You and I first met through the AoS Angst War, and then again a few times through agentsofchallenges - though, actually, you thought I didn't know who you were. And that is just!! Hey!! I understand where you were coming from, but also, _we can't have that,_ so I messaged you the very next day. 
> 
> And, love, I am SO glad I did - because you really are absofreakinglutely AMAZING, and just always so great to talk to!! I mean, the Hamilton thing from earlier is living proof of this, but if you need more, I gave plenty. You, Q, are wonderfully kind, funny, and DO creative - seriously, yelling/freaking out with you about our WIPs is the BEST!! It helps extra that your ideas are always so _amazing_ , hnsjdskhsghsjhd, AHHHH. 
> 
> I could honestly go on and on and ON, but since there is this little thing called a character limit, and, you know, _time_ (curse it xD) I'm going to end this off here by repeating, once again, how absolutely amazing you are, and I love you so much!! All the best wishes for 2021 - may it be not too crazy, and full of MONTHS of more wonderful fandom shenanigans 🥰💜💜💜

Bobbi slammed her shot glass down on the bar, relishing the bitter burn of the vodka on her lips. Her head was pounding, her heartbeat drumming painfully loudly in her ears - but not loud enough to drown out the memory of his voice. 

_"You're choosing your job over me, Bob."_

She shook her head sharply, gripping her now-empty shot glass tighter, but it was no use. Memories flooded in, thick and fast, pressing in from all sides, until all she could see and hear was him him _him._

Him, and their fight. 

_Bobbi was late, very late, and she knew before she had even pushed open the door that Hunter was going to be mad. And sure enough, when she stepped into the kitchen, he was furious._

_"Ah," he exclaimed when he saw her, spreading his arms and dropping his bottle of Bendeery's on the counter with a sharp thunk. "So look who's alive after all."_

_She pressed her fingers against her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Hunter…"_

_She was exhausted, and battered, and bloody, and all she wanted was a strong drink and then to collapse into Hunter's arms and not move for the rest of the weekend._

_Hunter, however, was in no mood for such tendernesses._

_"You were supposed to be back hours ago, Bob," he snapped, making a sharp, hopeless gesture with one hand. "We were supposed to cook dinner together."_

_She saw, past the hopeless drop of his arm, that he had actually pulled up a table and two chairs in the corner of the kitchen, complete with his mom's snowy white tablecloth, and the fancy silver cutlery they had bought on a whim at Coulson's._

_There had clearly been two places set, but now there was just one, the flickering light of the single candle causing the empty shadows on the other side of the table to stand out in sharp relief._

_Bobbi exhaled a shaky breath. "Hunter…" she said again, but just like she had a few moments ago, she had to stop, unable to think of anything to say._

_For his part, Hunter barked a laugh, sharp and sarcastic, but with an undercurrent of raw pain that scared her far more than the rest of it._

_"Hunter, she says," he said, spreading his arms wider and jerking his head in her direction. "'Hunter.' like I haven't just spent the last five hours worrying myself to the bone about her."_

_The deliberate use of third-person, combined with the cold detachment in his eyes, sent a stan of pain straight through her heart. Hunter always wore his heart on his sleeve, and the fact that he was trying not to do that showed how genuinely furious he was._

_She swallowed, hard, fighting past the burning lump in her throat. "I'm…" she tried._

_But Hunter cut her off, taking a step forward and grabbing for her hands, his eyes blazing. "I thought you might be_ dead, _Bob," he said, and the words were practically a snarl, underlined by a desperate, fierce relief and, more tellingly, a burning, white-hot fury. "I thought you might be dead, and that at any moment it would be one of them walking in through that door instead of you, telling me that I'd never see you again."_

_"Because I had no way to know," he continued, each word hitting like the striking blow of a hammer. "You didn't contact me, not for five whole hours after the time you said you would be back."_

_Bobbi's voice felt unusually thick as she replied, unconsciously reverting to the same monotone as her handler, "Outside contact of any kind is not approved."_

_Hunter's eyes flashed, and, in a single sharp movement, he dropped both her hands, turning away in disgust. "That's what I mean," he said, his voice charged with emotion. "That's exactly what I mean."_

_"Your job means more to you than I do," he accused, spinning around to meet her eyes again. His eyes were full of anguish, but also just a tiny hint of hope, like that of a drowning man spotting a piece of driftwood and striking out desperately towards it._

_Bobbi denied it immediately, shaking her head and holding up both her hands placatingly. "Hunter, you know that's not true -"_

_"Isn't it?" he interrupted, his brown eyes alight with that drowning man's challenge, the last despairing attempt to fling himself onto the lifeboat. "Admit it, Bob - if you had a choice between staying home with me or going out to finish an infiltration op for the CIA, you'd choose them over me."_

_Bobbi opened her mouth to deny it, but stopped with the first word half-way formed, biting her lip._

_One of the first promises she and Hunter had ever made each other was that, as two professionals in the intelligence business, they would never lie to one another in their relationship._

_So she stood there, lips parted as she wracked her brain for something to say, for just a moment too long._

_Interpreting her silence correctly, Hunter gave a bitter, pained kind of laugh. "You see? You admit it. I don't mean as much to you as your job does."_

_"That is_ not -" _Bobbi began, but Hunter was already shaking his head._

 _"I don't want to hear it, Bob," he said simply. "You just said it yourself, the CIA is more important to you than I am."_

_"I didn't say that," she cut back sharply. "You put the words in my mouth."_

_Hunter shrugged one shoulder, his smile the epitome of bitterness. "They were already there, weren't they?"_

_"No," she cried, and the wrenching passion in her voice had to be a truth. "I care about you, Hunter. A lot."_

_He nodded once, quick and grim, and what terrified her was the absolute_ emptiness _in his gaze._

_"Maybe so," he said quietly. "But not as much as you care about the CIA."_

_Bobbi folded her arms tightly across her chest, a surge of defensiveness rising up in her to briefly overrule the horrible, prickling build of guilt and pain. "You're not going to guilt-talk me into leaving the CIA," she said sharply._

_He threw up his hands, shaking his head with a half-incredulous laugh. "And, God, Bobbi, I'd never ask you to! You're a bloody hero, and I know how much it means to you to do what you do."_

_"Well, then what do you want from me?" she demanded. "If you don't want me to leave the CIA, but you're criticising the way I perform my missions -"_

_"Compromise," he cut her off, his eyes burning as he stepped into her space. And she sensed, this time, that_ he _was the one throwing_ her _the lifeline as he said, "I'm asking you for a compromise, Bob. All I want is one call to let me know that you're going to be late, but at least you're alive, and -"_

 _"You know I can't do that," she interrupted, feeling a flare of irritation spark in her gut. "I_ told _you, it's against protocol, and protocol is there for a reason, to keep the lives of our agents out of danger."_

_"Oh, don't worry, I get it," Hunter said, his gaze terrifyingly bleak as he nodded once, slowly and dully. "You're choosing your job over me."_

You're choosing your job over me. 

_Those words repeated in Bobbi's head, over and over,_ you're choosing your job over me, _and she felt the flash of irritation turn into panic._

_"Wait, no, I'm not, I'm -" she tried, reaching towards Hunter - but he stepped away with a sharp jerk of his head._

_"I can't be in a relationship with the CIA, Bob," he told her, his gaze full of raw emotions, too many emotions to even try and name, as he looked at her._

_He drew in a quick breath, then blew it out slowly, shaking his head once, definitively. "I need to know that you're willing to put just as much into this relationship as I do, and… Well, you won't even try for something as simple as a_ call."

_Her breathing caught in her chest, and, unprompted, she felt the hot prickle of tears against her eyelids, a squeeze of wrenching pain in her heart._

_"That's not how it is," she tried desperately, but the words rang hollow, even to her._

_Hunter didn't even shake his head this time, just held her gaze with his expressive, sad-angry-and-heartbroken-all-at-once brown eyes. "Yeah, it is," he said quietly. "And I can't live like this anymore."_

_He turned away, and this time there was no disguising the stab of genuine panic that pierced her heart._

_"Hunter, wait -"_

_But the door had already clicked shut behind him._

Thud. 

Bobbi glanced up, and found Daisy half-grinning down at her, sliding a double shot of vodka over the bar towards her. 

"You looked like you need this," her sister said in response to Bobbi's raised eyebrow. 

Bobbi gave a sharp, wry laugh, swirling the liquid in her shot glass. "Thanks," she said, tipping her head and knocking it back in one. 

Daisy was watching her with raised eyebrows, a sympathetic but simultaneously knowing look in her eyes. "So, do you want to tell me about it?" 

Bobbi shook her head, proud when her voice only came out a little slurred as she said, "Come on, no, you don't want to hear about my relationship problems." 

"Please," Daisy scoffed, nudging Bobbi's leg with her toe. "As if you haven't listened to enough of _my_ boy troubles to fill a book - what kind of sister would I be if I didn't return the favour once or twice?" 

"Besides," she continued, her voice much softer than Daisy had been expecting, "you know Mom always taught us to look out for each other." 

_That_ was true. When Melinda May had picked two hopeless, too-long-in-the-system girls out of the orphanage - Daisy because no family wanted to adopt, in their words, a _half-breed_ , and Bobbi because she was too old already, and they whispered that there had to be something wrong with her if she hadn't been adopted for so long - she had given them much more than a home, a purpose, and training to be the two best agents the CIA had ever seen. She had given them _each other_ , and taught them that in a world that was still so dominated by men, they needed to stick with each other, and always be there for each other. 

And they had, so far. 

So Bobbi smiled, in part rueful, but in a _much_ larger part affectionate - and Daisy smiled back, reaching out to squeeze her hand. 

The smile faded from Bobbi's lips as she looked back down at her drink, though, hearing Hunter's voice echo in her head all over again. _The CIA is more important to you than I am._

"Am I a terrible person?" she asked Daisy suddenly, her voice quiet but full of the same awful bleakness that had filled Hunter's gaze earlier. 

She felt rather than saw Daisy tense beside her, reaching out to grip her hand steadyingly. "Why would you say that?" she asked, her voice just as soft as Bobbi's, but full of urgency. 

"Because… I don't know how to be an agent, and be in a relationship at the same time," she admitted with a quick, sharp shake of her head. "When I'm in the field, I forget about everything except the mission." 

"That doesn't make you a terrible person, it makes you a good agent," Daisy pointed out fairly. 

"Maybe," Bobbi agreed, lifting one shoulder. "But I'm the same afterwards. I can't… I don't know how to wear my heart on my sleeve, the way Hunter does, the way you do, even. I never knew, even before St Agnes - maybe there's something wrong with me."

"Hey, no," Daisy said, then again more firmly, "Bobbi, _no._ It just means you experience the world differently than we do, and that's not a bad thing! People are different, you know that. It just means you and Hunter will have to figure something else out." 

Bobbi's laugh was bitter. "Yeah, except that, apparently, I can't compromise." 

Daisy's brow crinkled. "What do you mean? Of course you can compromise - just call him when you get back from a mission, check in and let him know you'll be back in an hour, or whatever." 

She said the words so casually, like it was so _obvious,_ but it could have been a dagger straight to the heart for all it stung Bobbi. 

"Another drink, please," she said, her eyes prickling as she slapped a flat palm on the bar. To Daisy, she said, feeling as if she was watching herself from very far away, "But that would put the security of the mission at risk." 

"Then you set up a secure line!" Daisy threw up her hands, as if it was obvious - and, Bobbi realised belatedly, it should have been. 

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ There was something wrong with her - so wrong with her. 

How had she not seen that? How had she not seen that solution, so simple, so _easy?_

Was she really… was Hunter right, and did she really love the CIA more than she loved him? 

And if it was true, what kind of _low,_ awful person did that make her? 

When her drink arrived, she barely even waited for the barkeep to set it down, knocking it back before the man had even turned his back. 

With the bitter burn of the liquor on her lips, Bobbi told Daisy, the slur in her words doing nothing to disguise the raw pain there, "I don't think even a secure line could fix me and Hunter now."

She couldn't stop seeing his _face,_ couldn't stop hearing his voice, the way his accent grew more clipped in a combination of pain and anger… 

It was only very belatedly that she realised she _was_ , in fact, hearing Hunter's voice - there, at the other end of the bar, sat the man himself, a pretty brunette next to him squeezing his hand as she listened to him talk. 

Bobbi felt sick to the stomach in a way that had nothing to do with all the drinks she had consumed. "I need the bathroom," she told Daisy, managing to push back her chair and stagger to her feet. 

And then, not giving Daisy any time to protest, she was off, making her way to the ladies' on swaying steps and, when she reached that sanctuary of heartbroken women everywhere, slumping against the wall and squeezing her eyes shut. 

Try as she might, she couldn't stop seeing the soft look in the brunette's eyes, the sharp gestures Hunter had been making with his free hand, and the way his _other_ hand had been all wrapped up in hers…

 _He_ hadn't waited long after their fight to move on, apparently. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her head hard against the cold tiles of the bathroom door, and wishing that she had some way to ease the relentless aching in her heart. 

Oh, she could go out there and pick up the first pretty girl or hot guy she saw - but no matter how many drinks she had in between, the pain would be right back tomorrow. 

The only one who could really make it go away was Hunter, and Hunter… well, she didn't even know what she and Hunter _were_ , anymore. 

And _that_ hurt more than anything - because, despite the fact that she didn't always know how to show it, Bobbi loved Hunter. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before, even as he drove her crazy and broke her heart - she loved him. 

She'd never stop loving him. 

But for all that she loved him, she couldn't give up her job at the CIA. She didn't… she didn't know who she was if she wasn't an agent, and she didn't _want_ to know. 

So he was right, wasn't he? 

God, there was something so wrong with her. She loved him, but she didn't love him _enough_ \- or, at least, she didn't love him the way he needed to be loved, the way he _deserved_ to be loved. 

And she was bringing him down because of it.

More than anything, it was that thought that truly broke her heart - because despite _everything_ he did to infuriate her, Hunter was a great guy, and he deserved to be happy. 

She loved him enough to want that for him, at least. 

So if _she_ was the reason he wasn't happy right now, well… it was simple. 

She had to leave. 

Her mind made up, regardless of how much it made her heart twist and her eyes burn with tears, she pushed open the bathroom door and walked out, her steps only slightly unsteady and out of line. 

Two paces out, though, her resolve already started to waver - because there, standing outside the bathroom door like he had been waiting for _her_ , was Hunter. 

Bobbi pressed one hand against the wall to steady herself, partly because of her drunkenness, but equally because of the catch in her breathing which, thanks to her aforementioned drunken state, threatened to throw her off balance and right into his arms. 

"What are you doing here, Hunter?" she asked, deliberately not looking at his face, but rather staring at the bar. 

"I just wanted to check you were alright," he said in a clipped, cool voice - and when she snuck a glance at him, she saw that he, too, was avoiding looking at her, instead studying the wall in front of him. 

"Why?" she asked, hating the way her lowered filter made the word come out sounding so… _vulnerable._

"You looked pretty drunk," he replied, in that deliberately casual tone of voice he used when he didn't want her to push further. 

She shook her head, half-smiling, and it was a heartbroken, bitter thing. "Why?" she asked again. "Aren't we over? Shouldn't you be paying attention to your new lady friend?"

She hadn't meant for that last part to come out, but, _oops_ , apparently a drunkenly lowered filter really meant exactly that. 

Hunter blew out a short, exasperated breath, and she didn't need to see his face to be able to picture the frustrated look on his face. "Just because I'm mad at you doesn't mean I want you to drown in a public toilet or something equally ghastly, love." 

"I'd never drown in a public toilet, what the _hell,_ Hunter?" she demanded, folding her arms tightly in an attempt to ignore the way he called her _love_ , his accent caressing the endearment in a way she'd never tell him she adored. 

He spoke over her, raising his voice to say, "And _besides_ , Jemma isn't my pick-me-up, she's my cousin." 

"She deserves a _lot_ better than a one-night-stand, too," he added, more to himself than her, but with a tender kind of affection in his eyes that tugged at her heartstrings. 

There was a time when he used to look like that when he talked about her, too - a little more heated, usually, but still _full_ of that heart-melting tenderness and love. 

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, she tore her gaze away from Hunter (when had she started looking at him, anyway? Wasn't she supposed to have been avoiding his gaze?) and turned her attention on the far end of the bar where Hunter and Jemma had been sitting. 

Except… those seats, _both_ of those seats, were empty. 

Where would Jemma have gone? 

A hint of an agent's alertness piercing through the haze of confused grief and alcohol shrouding her brain, Bobbi scanned the bar, searching every face until she found Jemma's. She had only seen the woman once, it was true, but the memory was… burned into her brain, even though she knew, now, that it hadn't been like that. 

With a CIA agent's training - specifically, _Agent Melinda May's_ training - behind her, it only took Bobbi a few seconds to locate Jemma. 

And when she did, she gasped out loud. 

"Hunter," she called, for a single beautiful moment forgetting everything and tapping his shoulder, "look at that!" 

Hunter turned around, but in the same movement shifted deliberately away from her. "What is it?" he asked, voice carefully cool. 

Bobbi blinked, the rebuff hitting her like a bucket of cold water in the face - _right_. They were fighting; everything was wrong between them. 

In fact, she was barely even sure there was still something that could be called a "between them."

For just a moment there, though, when her excitement had overruled her logic for a few precious seconds, everything had been exactly the way it was supposed to be - Hunter was by her side, it was natural, it was _right;_ she never doubted he'd be there when she reached to tap his shoulder. 

Having him next to her was just so _comfortable_ , just so exactly the way things were supposed to be… 

She shook her head sharply, forcing those thoughts from her brain. That wasn't them, not anymore.

But it _could_ be someone else. 

"Look, over there, Daisy and Jemma," she said with a small nod at their respective companions for the night, who had drawn up seats at the same end of the bar and seemed to be deep in an animated conversation. 

Hunter and Bobbi both fell silent, watching - and, she thought, _marvelling._ Daisy and Jemma were talking about them, that much was obvious, but her agent's eyes immediately picked out the little details like how Daisy was leaning forward, hanging onto Jemma's every word, her body language open and excited. 

Jemma, for her part, was gesturing emphatically as she spoke, reaching up every few seconds to brush a strand of hair behind her ear - a classic sign of nervousness, _or_ of excitement, typically of the romantically-interested kind. 

Both girls' cheeks were flushed faintly pink, and they kept smiling into the gaps in conversation, a little awkward but wholly, completely genuine - she could tell by the little laughter lines crinkling the corners of their eyes, and the eager, engaging sparkle in both their gazes visible even from the opposite side of the room. 

Hunter gave a low whistle, watching the two of them with an intense, ex-marksman's scrutiny. "Well, is Daisy any good?" he asked. 

Bobbi turned to him, affronted. "Any good? She's the fucking _best."_ Narrowing her eyes, she shot back, "Is _Jemma_ any good?" 

"The human personification of the phrase _'beautiful both inside and out,'"_ Hunter said, his gaze doing that affectionate-softening thing again. 

Bobbi nodded once, grudgingly. "Good, because Daisy hasn't had the best luck with relationships, at _all."_

"Jemma's the same," Hunter agreed, his gaze still on his cousin as he gave a small, serious nod. "Rotten luck, but she deserves the best." 

"That's _exactly_ Daisy!" Bobbi exclaimed, then fell silent as what they had both just said really registered in her brain. 

There was a long, significant moment of silence, and then at precisely the same time, Bobbi and Hunter turned to look at each other. 

And she knew they were thinking the exact same thing: _those two need to get together properly_. 

Holding Hunter's gaze, though, she saw a slight hint of doubt creep into his eyes, saw his expression turn guarded. 

And she knew that, once again, they were thinking the same thing, because the same doubt had just crept into her mind - _could they work together for long enough to make this work?_

Barely a second later, though, she had her answer - for _her_ part, she'd put up with almost anything if it meant Daisy was going to be happy. She was her _sister,_ for God's sake - nothing was too much, or too little. 

And she deserved to be happy more than anyone else Bobbi could think of, except maybe their mother. And Hunter. 

But that was a whole different can of worms, and, as she glanced up hesitantly to meet Hunter's gaze again, she found him already watching her, determination replacing the caution and doubt in his gaze. 

She knew, then, that he felt the exact same way about Jemma as she did about Daisy. 

So maybe… maybe they could make this work, after all. 

Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she addressed Hunter directly for the first time since their fight. "We need to set up a second meeting for them." 

Holding her gaze steadily, Hunter nodded, once. "What do you have in mind?" 

And Bobbi smiled. 

This didn't magically fix things, she knew that - there was still anger between them, thick and sharp like a brewing thunderstorm. 

But for this one day, for this one mission, they were both willing to let the sunshine of Daisy and Jemma push through the clouds. 

//

The next morning, Bobbi was shepherding her sister into the car, determined to make the most of the post-mission day off they both had. 

"But are you _sure_ you want me there?" Daisy asked for the thousandth time, fiddling with the handle of her door. 

_"Yes,"_ Bobbi replied emphatically, also for the thousandth time. 

But Daisy remained hesitant. "If you and Hunter are actually going to talk, shouldn't you be alone?" 

"Believe me, we're going to _need_ the buffer if we both want to come out of this alive," Bobbi said, giving Daisy's shoulder a little push for emphasis. "And if you don't get into this car right now, I swear to God I'm telling Mom it was you who stole her youtiao." 

Daisy blanched. "You _wouldn't."_

 _"Try_ me," Bobbi responded, flipping her keys through her fingers with a devilish smirk. 

She had never seen Daisy get into a car that fast. 

And thank _God_ , too - it would have been the _worst_ if she had managed to be late for the set-up/date she and Hunter had so specially arranged. He would have lost his _mind_ , and, honestly, he would have had every right to. 

But, fortunately, that wasn't a problem today, and they pulled up in front of Mack's Coffee with one minute to spare. 

"Are you _s-"_ Daisy began as they got out of the car, but Bobbi brandished the keys at her like they were a weapon (which, in her hands, they could be.) 

"If you are about to say _are you sure_ , then I am about to send the fully-typed message about the Great Youtiao Incident to Mom right this minute," Bobbi threatened, holding up her phone with her free hand. "Kapeesh?" 

"Kapeesh," Daisy yelped, scrambling up the steps and into the coffee shop.

Shaking her head and smiling despite herself, Bobbi followed her in - just in time to hear Daisy's surprised exclamation as she saw who else was in the coffee shop with them. 

_"Jemma,"_ she cried, sounding surprised but completely and radiantly happy, an instant smile spreading across her face. "You're here?" 

"Yeah, Hunter insists that getting a coffee is more important than finishing my research paper," Jemma said, rolling her eyes in affectionate amusement. Her smile turned playful. "Hey, but guess who it was for?" 

"Not Doctor Nugent?" Daisy asked, clapping her hands over her mouth (an action which, while being entirely adorable, did nothing to hide the giddy, shining grin on her face.) 

"Yes," Jemma exclaimed happily, leaning forward to high-five - actually _high-five_ \- Daisy. 

Then the two of them said, in perfect sync, _"Manscaping!"_

Which, of course, made no sense at _all,_ but made them both dissolve into fits of giggles. 

Bobbi couldn't help smiling as well, and the smile stayed on her face, small and cautious but _there,_ as she turned to greet Hunter. "Hey, Hunter," she said softly. 

He gave her a slightly strained half-smile, but she could tell he was being genuine when he said, "It's good to see you, Bob." 

"You too," she said, and she meant it. 

The moment stretched out just a _little_ too long, both of them with words on the tips of their tongues and emotions swirling in confusing spirals in their hearts, but neither of them knowing how to say what they were thinking, and, anyway, if they _should._

Instead, Bobbi cleared her throat and turned to Daisy and Jemma, who were still giggling themselves silly and catching each other's eyes to exchange giddy, flirty grins as they did. 

"Hey, guys," she said, and both girls started, like they had forgotten they weren't alone. 

Bobbi remembered that feeling, and the aching absence of it made her heart twinge. 

But, forcing herself to focus, she said in a deliberately light, casual tone, "Do you want to go find us a table so long? Hunter and I will stay in line and order." 

Jemma and Daisy exchanged glances, and Bobbi thought for a moment that Daisy _might_ be onto them - but then her sister caught Jemma's eye again, and all other thoughts seemed to fly out of her head. 

"Sure, sure, that sounds good," she said, and Bobbi didn't miss the way she literally couldn't keep a smile off her face. "You know my order, right?" 

"'Course I do, you insufferable little sweet tooth," Bobbi replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes as she mouthed, _double caramel macchiato_ at her sister. 

Daisy grinned at her, cheeks dimpling, and mouthed _I love you too_ back.

"I'd just like a cup of breakfast tea, please," Jemma said to Hunter with a bright smile. "Low fat milk, no sugar. Thanks so much!" 

That last part was flung hurriedly over her shoulder as Daisy, who had actually _grabbed Jemma's hand_ , started pulling her towards one of Mack's best tables at top speed. 

Bobbi watched them go, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched them weave through the little coffee shop, trading smiles the whole way. 

Beside her, Hunter cleared his throat, and the realities of her situation rushed in, along with the now-familiar motley of confused and painful emotion. 

Today wasn't about her and Hunter, not really. 

Not at _all_ , in fact - their plan was actually that, as soon as they were sure Jemma and Daisy had gotten a table and were happily flirting, the two of _them_ would disappear and never come back. 

It would be a while before either of the girls noticed, especially going by that little flirting fit from earlier - they could both be well on their way before Daisy and Jemma realised what had happened, and, by that time, they would hopefully have had the chance to flirt and be cute uninterrupted well for a good twenty minutes. 

It was a perfect plan, honestly - she and Hunter barely had to interact for the duration of it, and in just a few minutes they could both leave, never to see each other again. 

But Bobbi found herself hesitating, Jemma and Daisy's thrilled little smiles flashing in her mind - and, though every part of her knew it was stupid, and completely unreasonable, she found herself shooting a glance at Hunter. 

He was already looking at her, and the expression on his face was… she couldn't even think where to _begin_ describing it, but it was exactly what she was feeling, too. Hurt, nostalgia, longing, confusion, regret, resignation, _exhaustion…_

"We should stay just a little longer, just to make sure they're settled in okay," she said, and it was a weak excuse, but Hunter was nodding before she had even really finished speaking. 

Together, they turned to watch Jemma and Daisy, and though she couldn't see his face, she could tell Hunter was smiling. 

So was she - Jemma and Daisy were deep in conversation, their eyes fixed on each other in undisguised fascination, and both of them sporting little grins that they obviously thought were subtle and secret, but which really weren't. 

Daisy was making dramatic gestures with her hands, and pulling faces, too, and Jemma was hanging onto her every word, dissolving into helpless laughter every so often, which always prompted Daisy to burst into laughter, too. 

And, inevitably, they'd both glance up and accidentally meet the other's eyes, then both pull their gazes away fast, cheeks flushing and half-embarrassed, half-giddy grins tugging at their lips. 

It was _adorable_ , it really was - they were absolutely adorable together. 

And it was stupid, it was stupid and _ridiculous_ and it was only going to hurt her, but… the more she watched Daisy and Jemma, the more she couldn't stop looking at Hunter. 

They had been like that once, she and him - _happy._

Well, okay, they had never been _quite_ that bubbly and highly - their thing was more electric chemistry, traded playful barbs, and, though they'd never admit it to anyone but each other, moments of shared and incredibly deep tenderness and compassion. 

But whatever the stylistic differences, at the core they had once been the same: _happy._

And as she watched her sister's smile grow wider with every passing second, she felt the gaping hole in her heart yawn wider. 

At their little table, Daisy threw back her head and laughed at something Jemma had just said - and then, when she straightened up, reached out and boldly took Jemma's hand, lacing their fingers together and placing their joined hands in the middle of the table, like a statement. 

Even from the coffee line, Bobbi could see that Jemma's breathing caught in her throat. Daisy, for her part, was on tenterhooks, completely breathless - but then they met each other's gazes and _smiled_ , and it was like everyone else in the universe had faded away around them. 

And Bobbi swore she felt something inside her shatter into pieces, the sharp fragments stabbing like the sharpest daggers into her heart. 

Were they really so broken that they could never be happy again? 

Goddammit, were they really going to _accept_ that? Just… give up? 

"I could set up a secure line and call after missions," she blurted before she could think better of it. 

Beside her, Hunter froze, and she thought that all the air had been sucked out of the room as he replied in a strangled voice, "What did you say?" 

She turned to face him properly, not even trying to hide the anguish in her gaze. "I said, I can set up a secure line and call you after missions," she repeated. "Look, Hunter, I know you said you don't want to do this anymore, but…" She blew out a shaky, shivering breath, gesturing at Daisy and Jemma with a small tilt of her head. "Watching them together, I just… I'm not ready to let you go, Hunter. I still love you, I _do_ , and I know things haven't been the best lately, I know I'm not the best at showing it -"

"But we can't just throw it all away just because things got tough," he finished for her, exhaling an unsteady breath of his own. "I know what you mean, Bob, I know how you feel, I feel the same." 

He gestured at Jemma and Daisy's table, at their beaming smiles and clasped hands. "They're so in love, so _happy,_ and I… we were good once, Bob. We were like that. A little less cute-y, maybe, but we were like that, and I… I want it again." 

"Me too," she breathed, nodding through the unshed tears in her eyes. "God, me too." 

He exhaled another shuddering breath, turning slightly to lock eyes with her. "You really mean that?" he asked, his voice raw. "About calling?" 

Bobbi swallowed, managing another nod past the heavy lump in her throat. "Yeah," she whispered. 

Hunter took a step forward, and then, regardless of all the other customers in the store, wrapped his arms tenderly around her waist. "Then I'll try not to be as attacking about your CIA," he said, still holding her gaze squarely. No lies, no denials of flaws.

"I'll still worry about you, and think you're over-dedicating yourself," he said frankly. "But I won't… make it a deliberate attack, I won't -" 

Bobbi couldn't even let him finish the sentence. The promise that they'd both be willing to try, the revelation that he'd missed this as much as she had, the almost-tender ache of knowing that they both still cared too much to just give it up, and the wonderfully familiar feeling of his arms around her waist - it all proved too much for her, and she surged forward in his arms to kiss him, hard. 

For a single stunning moment, he kissed her back, fierce and messy, both of them on the verge of crying and more emotional than she could remember being for… well, for as long as she had known him. It wasn't their prettiest kiss, by far, but it cemented their promises, made it absolutely and irrevocably real that they both wanted - _needed_ \- to try and fix this, fix them. 

Then, at last, and very reluctantly, Hunter pulled away, pressing his forehead against his and gasping raggedy for breath. "Wait, wait, wait," he said, opening his eyes slowly to look at her. "What about Mack?" 

She pressed one palm flat against his chest, tracing the line of his lips with the pointer finger of her other hand. "Mack," she said, "has seen it all already." 

Hunter almost grinned at that, nudging her nose affectionately with his. "You make an excellent point," he said, and then his hands were in her hair, and they were kissing again. 

Bobbi melted into it, into him - letting every bit of the stubborn, determined steel that had been holding her up snap away beneath the flood of incredible relief that they weren't done yet, they weren't over, they hadn't wrecked this _that_ badly yet. 

His lips tasted like coffee, and mint, and _hope,_ and he pulled her as tight against him as they could dare in a coffee shop. 

And, as she kissed him back with everything she had to give, it tasted like _trying._


End file.
